Not Everyone Can Be a Hero
by I should probably go outside
Summary: Jaune Arc had always wanted nothing more to be a huntsman, to be a hero. He wanted some excitement in his life, some adventure, some reason to get out of bed in the morning. But with one of his friends lives on the line a few weeks after initiation, he realises how far out of his depth he is. And even know he knows not everyone can be a hero, he wouldn't be an Arc if he didn't try.


**A/N **

**Hi everyone, this is my first fanfiction and something I'm doing just for fun, in fact, it's the first creative piece I've written since high school (and even then I was crap at it) so you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little rusty. this may be a oneshot depending on if there seems to be interest for more chapters, so if you like it, loathe it, want more or just have any tips then please leave them in the comments. So, without further ado, here we go.**

**I do not own any of the characters, set pieces or any part of RWBY, that belongs to Rooster Teeth and the brilliant team behind the show, it is thanks to them and the amazing Monty Oum that we can enjoy this universe.**

* * *

Jaune Arc was running as fast as his legs could carry him, he darted across muddy fields, clambered over fences and moved quickly through streams of people – he gathered his fair share of grunts, curses and looks of agitation along the way. '_Idiots!' _he thought, _'I don't have time for this!' _He screamed in his head. He wished he could raise his shield in front of him and use it as a battering ram. In a moment of pure frustration and desperation reached down to his waist, to Crocea Mors, his hands tightened around the sheath, hesitating just at the last second. '_They're civilians' _he reminded himself, _'they don't know what's going on, to them I'm just some idiot huntsman trying to rush through a crowd of people'_. It wasn't far from the truth; he certainly was an idiot. His hand swayed, his mind focusing on the task at hand_. _

He once wanted nothing more than to be a huntsman, a hero. He would spend hours upon hours fantasising about that life; The action, the adventure… the ladies. He longed for finding a team of his own, of coming together as a group and forging bounds that could only be created in the heat of battle, a camaraderie found only between those who had each other's backs in the darkest of situations… now though, he wanted nothing more than safety, nothing more than a normal life for him and his friends – but he'd made a promise, he could never forgive himself if he broke it.

As loud as the boots stamping against the ground were, as debilitating as the pain in his muscles, joints and lungs were , and as harsh as the shouts form those unknowingly in the way were – the words in his brain stung more than enough to make him forget about the rest of his pain. Even in his fatigued state, they were as clear and a plate glass window. _"Jaune!" _she screamed_ "I'm under attack, I need hel– oof"… _the line went dead after that. His friend, no… she was more than that, she was one of the only people who believed he could be a leader, to believe he could be anything more than useless. She was in danger, and through sheer luck (or misfortune in this case) he was the only one close enough to assist.

'_What can I really do_?', '_Jaune Arc, future hero, huntsman in training… fraudster, liar, criminal', _to say he was angry and afraid would be an understatement_. _His feelings consisted of fury that he allowed the lie to get this far, and sheer terror of something happening to his ally, no, his friend. He'd grown to care about her, grown to think of her as more than a friend, in the few weeks they had spent together he thought of her as family, he thought of her as almost a sister, he trusted her, she trusted him – he hated himself for it.

*brrb* His scroll vibrated. He knew he was getting close.

He took a quick glance at it noting that he was only two minutes from her location. The girl was smart enough to activate her emergency beacon and with him being labelled as a close friend, he would be able to see her aura level when he was close enough. The man who'd gave him those damn transcripts were right, he would regret it. Of course, the man had meant that he'd wish he hadn't done it because of the danger it put him in, rather than the danger it would put others in, but he was right nonetheless. _'It's all my fault' _he told himself, _'If I wasn't good enough to get into a combat school, then what chance did I at a huntsman academy_´. _'If only you'd been a little less selfish and thought about others_'. His mom said in his mind. Gods, if he knew what he'd done she'd be furious, he wouldn't even make it past the first week. she'd march down to Beacon Academy and drag him back kicking and screaming in front of everyone, all while guilt tripping him about the amount of danger he had put everyone in. Juniper Arc was like that, in her book safety was worth a little public humiliation. He took after her in that way, dad too. Only he had the selfish desire to be cool while doing so, ignoring all the consequences and putting the very people he was trying to protect in danger.

Did that make him a reckless? Yes. An idiot? Absolutely? A hypocrite? Maybe? But a bad person? He liked to think that when – not if – push came to shove, he'd be the first to jump in the line of fire to protect those he loved, or anyone else for that matter – not that it mattered if he couldn't kill a one-legged beowolf.

*brrrb* His scroll vibrated again.

He was close, very close, close enough to see her aura.

Jaune's eyes widened at that moment.

There was nothing there, nothing but a completely greyed out bar and a massive red 'X' over her face.

It took a full 5 seconds for that to sink in. But when it had Jaune's mind raced, he cycled through horrifying thoughts, each worse than the last. With no other information than an empty meter Jaune was forced to confront his worst fear; that someone he loved had died because of his stupidity. _'May have'. _He reminded himself. _'I don't know anything yet. She might be okay. For all I know she's…' _his mind quickly tired to calm him_ 'Sitting happily balancing her weapon on her lap, rocking it back and forth, while a pile of bad guys lay unconscious on the floor around her' _"Ha ha" he did his best to force a laugh at that, the desperate as it may have been.

He rushed towards the ruined building located on the south side of Vale, her reason for being here? He didn't know, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was okay.

He slowly pushed through wooden doors, blackened by dirt, with 3 broken panes of lass running down the middle of each. Stepping through the doors, he narrowly avoided stepping on – and crashing through – a broken floorboard. With spiderwebs dotting the various doorways and corners around him and thick layer of dust on every surface, he walked on. Slowly creeping through the long hallway, he spotted a trail of footprints, bullet casings, metal shards and eeek- small splashes of blood in front of him. The thought made him wince. _'That's a good sign, right? The blood looks fresh. That's means I'm no too far behind.' _he guessed, but as silly as it may have sounded, the thought comforted him. Ignoring the obvious question as to who's blood it was, he pushed on. He followed the obvious signs of battle down the hallway and around the corner into a large (at least for the building) reception type area, with a dusty wooden front desk, bulky great computer and run-down couches, tables and chairs all over it. He followed the assortment of metal and blood behind the desk, through an open door and up a flight of stairs ending on an open doorway.

The kitchen – or what was left of it, was wrecked. The door which had a sign that read 'employees only' was lying on the floor, a whole foot from where it should have been, it looked like it had been cut from the hinges and kicked open. _'She's been here, the door must have been locked and she wouldn't be that effective in such a tight space' _he surmised_._

Walking through the kitchen itself was no easy task, there were broken tiles, wrecked machines, destroyed cabinets and bullet casings everywhere. 'She never was once for subtlety_' _he chuckled. He continued on to another gap where a door should be, this one broken in several places, almost as if something had smashed through it. _'Or someone' _he grimaced, looking at the still wet blood on the edges of the cracks.

The room was dark, broken chair and table legs were strewed across the floor, bullet holes in the walls and rips in the curtains, there was a broken trolley on its side, smashed plates and bowls spilled on to the surface beneath.

He froze, even in the chaos he could never miss her

His heart dropped.

His eyes welled up.

Unmoving, lying in a pool of blood, the dark thick liquid oozing from her body and staining the carpet below. Battered. Bruised. Her once bright eyes closed, her clothes smeared the colour of crimson and with no hint of defiance left in her.

The name 'Little Red' had never been so accurate, or so tragic.#

* * *

***le gasp* What a *bloody* mess. Anyway, if you read this far I'm gonna assume that you liked it at least a wee tiny bit (or you absolutely hated it and just are just really dilligent with your hatred haha).**

**Like I said, this was my first story but I want all the feedback I can get, no matter how brutal. Don't worry, I own book called "How To Be A Grown-Up" so I'm prepared for anything you can throw at me, then again I also have a book called "Don't Wanna Grow Up" by Iain Stirling... swings and roundbouts I assure you. Weird to think that either of them could be reading this and I would never know, for that fact famous people, or people who I know could be reading this. I'd never know and they'd never know I was the one who wrote it. Kinda boggles your mind.**

**Anyway, I'll catch you later, I'm gonna go outside.**


End file.
